


the care and feeding of ravenously hungry girls

by candypoppin



Series: along came a spider [1]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candypoppin/pseuds/candypoppin
Summary: “To be fair,” Jihyo managed, her mouth still dotted with viscera, “he had it coming.”
Relationships: Minatozaki Sana/Park Jisoo | Jihyo
Series: along came a spider [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678888
Comments: 15
Kudos: 42





	1. an argument

**Author's Note:**

> @candypoppin on twitter
> 
> think i'm being fairly obvious as to who exactly i'm ripping off. but nevertheless a thousand internet points to whoever can decipher where i'm going with this. 
> 
> thanks due to vai_the_trooper (@epicnayeonnie on twitter) for the encouragement

“Read this.”

Her father’s voice was laced with barely-concealed venom, but Sana shrugged it off. They’d sniped at each other so often that his petty attempts at intimidation didn’t really have much of an effect on her anymore. “ _The Daily Bugle_ , Daddy? Why are you sullying your desk with their content? It’s not even fit to be used as toilet paper.”

“I wouldn’t have to sully my desk with the _Bugle_ if not for you!” God, her father was so predictable. As he rose to his full height, trembling with agitation, Sana folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting over the chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. “ _Read it._ ”

Sana sighed. “Fine.” She leaned forward, eyes drifting over the text, and came to a gradual halt. _Oh._

“Seen it, have you?” her father snarled. “ _TozCorp heir spotted kissing foreign floozy_. In broad daylight, no less!” He snatched up his tumbler of brandy and drained it in one gulp before hefting it in one hand and looking for all the world as though he was on the verge of flinging it at the wall. “Disgraceful. You’ve brought shame upon this family.”

“Not much of a family, is it?” Sana snapped. “Not since Mom left.” She regretted the words almost as soon as they left her mouth, but it was too late for that, and she settled instead for leaning back in her chair again and folding her arms.

“You’re not fifteen anymore,” her father roared, “and _you will not speak to me in that manner!_ ”

“Oh, really?” Sana hissed, eyes narrowed into slits, exploding to her feet in one smooth movement, index finger jabbing at her father’s chest. “How about you, Daddy? How about you? How about you just say what you’ve been thinking for the past few years? Here, why don’t I just set it out in black and white for you?” She rolled her eyes, adopted a mocking growl. “ _Oh, why did I have to have a daughter? Why not a son? Daughters aren’t good for anything but bearing heirs, and no woman could possibly maintain what I’ve built these past few decades -_ ”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“Then why are you so furious that I’m gay? It’s not like I’ve been quiet about it!”

“That’s not -” Sana’s father gritted his teeth and finally gave in to the temptation to smash his crystal tumbler against the wall. Sana barely flinched as it exploded into a thousand shimmering pieces; she’d been on the receiving end of his tantrums far too often for it to register. “That’s not what I meant! What I mean -” and here he slammed his fist onto his desk, to punctuate his words as they came, “- what I mean, Minatozaki Sana, is that you aren’t acting your age! Why can’t you be discreet? When I was your age -”

“When you were my age, Daddy, no one knew you! Everyone knows me! Don’t you dare tell me that you never did any of the shit that I’ve done -”

“I never made a public nuisance of myself,” her father sneered. “I never undressed a girl in public. I never exposed my genitalia to anyone. Do you wish for me to continue?”

Sana clenched her fists.

“In any case, this ends here.” Her father folded his arms and adopted what Sana liked to call his “this hurts me as much as it hurts you” expression, but there was a triumphant glint in his eyes. “It’s time for you to start learning how to run a company. No more of this ridiculous ‘singing and dancing’ nonsense. I’m taking you out of that good-for-nothing institution and putting you in a proper school. You’ll be taking a course in business administration at one of the best universities in the country, and I don’t want you to -”

“- embarrass myself, right,” Sana spat, her heart throbbing in her ears, struggling to process what she’d just heard. “Because _god forbid_ if _I_ disappoint _you_.” She took a few steps back, running her hands through her hair, eyes darting around crazily, to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, to the tastefully-designed French cabinets, to the plush couches at her back, and then - finally - back to her father, dwarfed by the enormity of what he had built.

What he had built.

Well, what about her?

The rage suddenly came roaring back up, stronger than it had ever been, and erupted from her mouth, an inarticulate cry of fury and loss, the howl of a dying animal, and before she knew it Sana was out of her father’s office, the door slamming shut loud enough to wake the dead ( _but not Mommy, never Mommy_ ), banging down the long flight of stairs to the landing, and then out into her father’s private lobby. _Because it’s always been his company. Never mine._

 _Spit on my dreams like that, will you?_ Sana thought, jabbing at the lift doors with a calm, deliberate certainty. _Well, I'll show you. I'll show you._

Her father’s private laboratory - where he supervised and examined TozCorp’s most sensitive experimental projects - was waiting for her when she emerged from the lift. A flick of the switch brought the generators online - her father’s lab had been designed to be self-sufficient, since he tended to come down to tinker when he couldn’t sleep - and Sana came to a halt, eyes roving across the room with a sort of frenzied glee.

_Damn, I should’ve brought a baseball bat._

Still, Sana was nothing if not resourceful, and it only took a few minutes for her to carve a trail of destruction across her father’s laboratory. By the time she was done, the cupboards had been emptied out, and countless chemical solutions had likewise been emptied down the garbage chute. The floor was strewn with glass shards, and those complicated-looking machines in the corner had been smashed to pieces.

As Sana came to a stop, panting, she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and straightened her back, a cool, satisfied confidence suffusing her being. _Damn_ , she thought. _It feels good to let it all out_. The thought of her father’s face once he realized that she’d destroyed thousands of dollars’ worth of precious, (preferably) irreplaceable equipment and materials was… oh, it made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

It wasn’t until the doors hissed shut that Sana realized that she’d just walked into some sort of glass chamber.

 _Wait_. _Wait, wait, wait_.

There were nozzles extending from the ceiling. Sana’s eyes tracked the pipes to which they were connected, tracing them to the far end of the room, down, down, down to… oh, no.

_I thought that door led to the garbage chute!_

Sana bit her lip.

 _How many chemicals did I pour away?_ Scrambling, she rummaged through her father’s many lectures. (He'd stopped lecturing her on his work a few years ago, after she'd made it abundantly clear that she had absolutely no interest in chemistry, engineering or anything science-related whatsoever.) _Skulls, right. Skulls. Skulls mean death. Did any of them have skulls on their labels? Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, god -_

She wasn’t going to call for her father. She _wasn’t_.

“Daddy?” Sana whispered. “Daddy, I fucked up.”

The nozzles started to hiss. Sana clenched her fists and started beating at the glass, only to realize - all too late - that the glass was not glass, but rather some sort of transparent material that was impervious to her ineffectual blows. As she stared into her own reflection, the last thing she saw was a vaguely greenish mist, obscuring her vision.

And then it was in her nose.

\-----

_Sana?_

The sound of her father’s voice came to her as though through a haze. Sana stirred, blinked rapidly, and pushed herself into a kneeling position. She was surrounded by shards of glass (plastic?), and the chamber she’d been in - the chamber -

Sana turned around, stared.

_Did I break out?_

So she had. Sana rose to her feet, in one swift motion, and patted herself down, checking her hands, her knees, her arms. Her skin was smooth to the touch, and cool. Her father’s laboratory was still a mess… and was that him, coming down the corridor?

 _You’re still angry at him_ , Sana remembered, and - almost as though on reflex - she raised her chin, planted one hand on her hip, and adopted a nonchalant, slightly bored position, perched atop one of the stools.

_God, he sounds desperate. He sounds… scared. Almost as though he actually cares for me._

“… Sana! Sana!”

“Oh,” Sana sighed, “you came.” She didn’t need to look up to know that her father was purpling. “A bit too late, though.”

“You - you -”

“Me,” Sana agreed, tranquilly, and slipped off her stool, shouldering past her father. “Me. Have fun in your laboratory, Daddy.”

As she sauntered off down the corridor, she could feel his eyes burning into her back.


	2. sana gets in a fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @candypoppin on twitter
> 
> this chapter will be a quick power-testing montage. don't worry, jihyo will be coming next chapter!
> 
> writing felt a little bumpy but i've been keeping this in storage for a week and it's time for it to see the light of day before it goes stale.
> 
> please enjoy!!

The next day, Sana was brushing her teeth when something made her stop, pull her toothbrush out of her mouth, and squint at her reflection in the mirror.

Something was different about her… _something_. But she couldn’t place it. Was it just a feeling? Or - or was it something _inside_ her?

Unbidden, Sana recalled her mother, in the last months of her illness, almost swallowed up by her bedsheets, her arms little more than sticks, talking about how she’d always felt as though something was off about her. She’d not brought it up, though, not until things had progressed past the point of no return, and… and…

_God, I need a drink._

Pushing away from the counter, her good mood having faded into nonexistence, Sana gargled, spat and emerged from her palatial bathroom into her even-more-palatial bedroom. It was a massive space, with ceilings soaring high above her head and remote-controlled blinds drooping from the rafters to shield her from any prying eyes. Sana had held more than a few sleepovers here from time to time; in fact, she’d had her first kiss right here, in this very room. Ah, the memories.

As she left her bedroom, feet padding soundlessly over the expensive carpet, Sana looked down at her hands, that niggling suspicion flaring up again. Was it just her, or were her nail beds looking a little green?

No. It couldn’t be. It had to be trauma. After all, for all she knew, she’d nearly died last night.

(And who’s to say she hadn’t? Perhaps this was all a dream, a weird, pre-mortem flashback, and in a few short moments it’d all be over.)

(God, her father had really fucked her up, hadn’t he? He’d had no idea how to raise a child, especially not a child like her.)

As she rounded the corner, embarking on the long trek to her private gym, Sana gritted her teeth and turned to stare out at the city below. The weekend had just begun, and she had absolutely nothing to do.

To be fair, she _did_ have a few acquaintances to go out with, but Sana had always considered them to be fair-weather friends. They could be boiled down into two types, for the most part - entitled rich kids and girls who wanted to get in her pants. And Sana wasn’t in the mood to deal with either of them.

 _He’s taking me out._ **_He’s taking me out._ **

Her school had been established in the early twentieth century. Its pedigree was impeccable. Sana had had a grand time there, even if it hadn’t been the smoothest, and she’d have liked to live out her remaining two years there in peace. Sure, she’d understood that she’d have to set her own dreams aside to put her entire body and soul at her father’s disposal eventually - if she wanted to continue living the way she did, anyway - but _why_ , **_why_ **had he decided to just interrupt her education like that?

Sana might have hated her teachers (and sure, she did, but only from time to time). She might have hated her classmates (and sure, she did, but only from time to time). But she didn’t hate dancing. She didn’t hate singing. “Hate the artist, not the art.” Or something.

_I should find him and give him a piece of my mind._

But he wasn’t here. Her father wasn’t here. And he’d never been. He always woke up at six, regardless of whether he’d gone to bed at midnight or at three in the morning, and never failed to putter about doing his own thing for an hour or so before disappearing downstairs. Sana would have liked to go down there, but… but…

_BEEP_

_BEEP_

_BEEP_

Sana shook her head, sending her ponytail bouncing from side to side, and glared down at the monitor in front of her. Her treadmill was bleeping; it’d never done that before.

_SORRY, THE TREADMILL DOES NOT GO ABOVE THIS SPEED_

_What the hell?_

Sana blinked the sweat out of her eyes, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and arched her back, wincing as the bones in her back cracked and realigned. This treadmill, she was pretty sure, had been designed to max out at, like, an obscenely high number. She couldn’t possibly be running that fast -

Sana looked down at her legs, and then at the number on the screen.

_40.0 km/h_

Was the treadmill belt starting to smoke?

“Holy shit,” Sana said, under her breath. She wasn’t even panting. Her eyes darted up, from her treadmill console to the mirrors lining the walls of her private gym, and stared.

Her eyes were… her skin was… her teeth… her ears… her hair?

_What the -_

Momentarily thrown off-balance by the viridescent strands threading through her irises, Sana’s hand slammed down, and the belt beneath her feet started to slow down. Sana found herself gripping onto the handrails until she had come to a complete stop, staring at the console.

There was a dent. She’d left a dent, a hand-shaped dent, on the dull grey material of the console, just below the screen.

_What the fuck?_

Even though she’d rubbed her eyes, pinched herself and embarked on a short, disbelieving circumnavigation of the gym, the dent in her treadmill console was still there, still present, and very much real. Sana’s fingers traveled over its contours, poking and prodding it as if expecting it to suddenly disappear… but it didn’t. She backed to the door and left, heart pounding in her ears. There was no doubt in her mind at all that all this could be traced back to the green gas that she’d inhaled last night, in her father’s laboratory.

_What am I going to do about this?_

Sana paced about her father’s penthouse, navigating its corridors and hallways, lost in thought. It wasn’t until her stomach twinged and she found herself back in the kitchen that she realized that she hadn’t even had her breakfast yet. And so, one quick-and-dirty avocado sandwich later, she flopped amidst the cushions, flicked on the TV and came to a decision.

She wasn’t going to tell her father about this. That much, she knew. This… whatever this was… this was hers. She’d deal with it.

All her life, her father had been trying to dictate how she spent her time, how she lived, how she spoke, how she dressed. Well, _fine_. He could keep on doing that if he wanted, but Sana knew now that she was better than that.

Better than _him_.

(Physically, at least.)

_I can run really fast. Okay, that’s a start._

_I wonder what else I can do?_

\-----

Later that night, at around ten or eleven, Sana left her room, handbag under her arm, and - as casually as she dared - waltzed right past her father’s office. As usual, he was hard at work at his desk, and only glanced up briefly as she strolled past the door. He didn’t say anything, though, which was odd. Usually, he’d make a snide comment about how she wasn’t doing anything productive with her life, but today he seemed content to continue tapping away at his computer.

_Well, I guess that’ll just make it easier for me._

There were a number of elevators that travelled throughout the sprawling concrete-and-glass biome that defined her father’s domain in the heart of the city, but arguably the nicest of the lot was the one in which Sana was currently standing, a spacious glass lift connected, on every floor, to a private lobby. It could house about ten people, packed shoulder-to-shoulder, but realistically, Sana could only ever remember riding in the lift with two other people: her father and her mother. Any group larger than three would… well, it wouldn’t be right.

The ride was quick, though, and Sana hit the lobby, sprinted past the security guard and out through the doors. There was a car waiting for her, just outside, and Sana dove in, sighing in relief as the tinted windows slid up and she was once more shielded from any prying eyes.

“Evening, Sakura.”

“Evening, ma’am.”

“I’m going to need you to let me out, um, a few streets away from Baphomet.” (Baphomet was one of Sana’s favourite clubs.) As she rolled up the privacy screen with her right hand, Sana pulled off her dress with her left, revealing a pair of nondescript Balenciaga sweatpants underneath. She’d packed a change of clothes in her handbag, and as she slipped on her Comme des Garçons hoodie and kicked off her heels, it occurred to her that she might have over-prepared for this little excursion.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sakura replied, blithely unaware of Sana’s internal turmoil, and pulled away from the kerb.

They arrived, some time later, outside a dimly-lit storefront. Sana emerged from the car, glancing around furtively, and positioned herself on the sidewalk in such a way that - if Sakura had turned around to check whether she was actually going to go clubbing - it would have appeared as though she was indeed en route to Baphomet.

None of that happened, though, because Sakura just drove off.

 _Wow, I really_ **_did_ ** _over-prepare for this, didn’t I?_

Feeling a bit lost, Sana hung around for a while, checking that her phone was still on her, and then decided that she might as well do what she’d left the house to do.

She started running.

At first, she started off at a slower pace, jogging like a normal person. That was easy enough.

_Now to go a bit faster._

“A bit” turned out to be more like “a lot”, and soon Sana was whizzing through the streets, the ground pounding away beneath her feet, building after building passing by at dizzying speeds. At one point, she glanced down at her smartwatch, a nifty piece of technology that had been manufactured in Switzerland and which doubled as a speedometer, and noted - with a sort of detached glee - that she was now running at sixty kilometres per hour. According to Google, that made her faster than Usain Bolt.

_Yeah, okay, let’s call seventy my maximum speed and call it a day -_

There was a car approaching her.

_There was a car approaching her._

Her eyes were almost level with its headlights, and Sana could practically see herself reflected in the windshield, but before it could collide with her, Sana pulled herself out of the way, faster than she’d ever moved, and found herself skidding to a stop, heart throbbing painfully in her chest. She turned around, staring as the vehicle sped away, honking into the night, and bent almost double, panting. 

_How had I done that?_

She must have moved… quickly. Really, really quickly. In fact, it almost seemed as though everything she did was faster.

_That’s… that’s something. Wow._

_Where am I, anyway?_

Sana straightened up and glanced around, blinking into the darkness. Her surroundings were completely unfamiliar… and was that her father’s factory?

_Wow, how far have I run? I must be on the outskirts of the city._

Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Sana took stock of herself. Her hoodie was soaked; she felt gross. Pivoting on her heel, she decided to set a course for home, and pulled up Google Maps on her phone.

_God, I need a shower -_

And that was when she heard the sound of a gun being cocked.

“Turn around, nice and slowly.”

For a brief moment, Sana’s mind went blank with terror, but reality soon reasserted itself.

 _Why should I be afraid of them? Fuck, they should be afraid of_ **_me_ ** _._

The men who had presumed to rob her looked fairly rough, as was expected - she _was_ in a fairly run-down part of the city - and there were three of them. As she turned around, one of them paused and did a double-take. Had he recognized her?

“Fuck me, dude, she’s hot!”

“Touch me,” Sana said, quite coolly, “and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

“Ooh, someone’s feeling spunky,” the man holding the gun sneered. “Hand over the phone. Now.”

“I don’t think so.”

There was a brief pause. The three men looked at each other, chuckling disbelievingly, and as their laughter died away, it occurred to Sana that they might not have prepared for this eventuality. She stood there, staring at them, not making any effort to flee, when a shout suddenly rang out from the darkness:

“Grab her arms, you fucking idiots!”

_Oh, there’s more of them than I thought._

The man with the gun tilted his head, and his two subordinates hastened to obey. As their arms closed around her sleeves, though, Sana swept her arms out, hitting them in the chest, and blanched as she felt their bones crack underneath her knuckles. The men fell backwards, howling, and their boss stared, the gun in his hand trembling as he took one, two, three steps backwards.

_Wow, I hadn’t expected that._

_This is going to be_ **_fun_** _._

Cracking her knuckles, Sana pulled her arms free of the two men and advanced on the man with the gun, something like a smile starting to bud across her face.

That was when she felt something strike her in the shoulder.

The sheer force of the blow made her cry out, and her legs buckled with the pain. Almost immediately, someone delivered a kick to her back, and - as more and more blows started to rain down on her - Sana slowly realized that she’d really, really fucked up.

_Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I’m in over my head -_

_Wait._

_Are kicks supposed to feel like this?_

They didn’t feel that bad, all things considered. Sana was faintly aware that there were feet making contact with her body, but there was no pain, no numbness - nothing more than a faint sensation of being impacted rhythmically by multiple objects. Was she… not feeling any pain?

_That’s beside the point. I’m not feeling any pain. Why, then, am I just lying here and - and taking it? I’m a goddamn Minatozaki!_

There had arisen a faint, buzzing noise in her ears. Her heart was pounding. How much time had passed? It didn’t matter.

_Fuck these guys._

Sana’s hand shot out, gripped one of the many legs surrounding her, and _yanked_. There was a shout of pain, and the sound of a body falling to the floor violently. Another hand, another leg, another yank. And again, and again, and again, until the blows had lessened to the point where she could rise to her feet and sock one of them in the chest. Another one followed, and another, and another.

“N-no, please, no -”

Sana grabbed ahold of him with both hands, lifted him in the air - she, a girl who was probably shorter and lighter than him - and flung him at his friend, who had started running in the other direction. Her aim was true; both silhouettes crumpled to the ground.

Whirling around, she saw that there were only three men remaining, each of them holding a gun, and as she advanced on them - faster than they could react - it was possible to see the fear in their eyes. She could see their hands twitch - see flashes of light erupt from the barrels of their pistols - and it seemed like simplicity itself for Sana to whip to the side, dodging around their bullets as they tore a searing path past her neck, her shoulder, her arms.

_Ow!_

She hadn’t been able to dodge them completely - they’d grazed her flesh, and the pain was sharp and scorching… but, just barely, bearable.

_Note to self… I’m not invulnerable to bullets._

She made that mental note as her fist smashed into the first man’s face. He went down, his jaw a crumpled ruin, and her leg lashed out, made contact with the second one’s groin, sending him falling to the ground. The third one made as if to run, but Sana’s hand whipped out, gripped his wrist, and _twisted_.

“Oh, Jesus, please don’t hurt me -”

He was whimpering. He was _whimpering_.

Sana grasped his pistol with her other hand and squeezed, watching in fascination as the metal buckled and crumpled under her fingers.

The whimpering increased in volume.

“Go and call the cops,” Sana muttered, loud enough that he could hear her, and let go. He ran, and as he passed under one of the brighter streetlights, Sana saw that he had wet himself.

_Serves him right._

Sana paused, realized how hard she had been breathing, and sat down heavily on the pavement. Her clothes were black, but she was quite sure that the moistness she’d been feeling was her own blood. Crawling under one of the streetlights, she pulled off her hoodie and stared at the bruises dotting her body, and then at the stabbing pain in her shoulder, where -

She’d been shot.

She’d been _shot_.

_How the fuck am I still thinking clearly?_

Sana fumbled in her pocket for her phone, wincing at how her fingers left crimson stains over her touchscreen, made as if to call an ambulance… and paused.

_What the hell?_

The ragged ruin in her shoulder was healing, and healing rapidly.

The steady flow of blood had stopped, and glistening threads of greenish tissue were now forming, threading over the bloodiest segments. Sana watched, open-mouthed, as the tissue lightened, dried and scabbed over, like a video playing at eight times the speed. Oh, it wasn’t going to be healed completely, not any time soon, but it was undeniable that, over the course of a few minutes, her gunshot wound - and the very thought that she, Sana Minatozaki, had a _gunshot wound_ made her want to burst into hysterical laughter - had transformed into a minor injury comparable to a skinned knee or a sprained ankle.

Sana struggled to her feet, using her grip on the streetlight to hoist herself upright, and winced as her hands left a light imprint on the metal. Pausing for breath, she looked around, taking in the fallen bodies surrounding her, and decided that she had to get out of this place, and quickly.

One step, two steps, three steps, four, and soon Sana was loping along the street, her limp resolving itself into a gentle, long-legged stride as the world began to whiz by again. There was no time for thought or contemplation; she was running, and that was that. Whenever she heard sirens, she took care to make a detour, in order to avoid the cops who were no doubt on their way to the carnage that she’d caused. It wasn’t long before she was back in the city proper. She slowed down as the scenery started to become familiar, fished her phone out of her pocket at the same time, and dialled Sakura’s number.

“Can you come and pick me up?” 

Sakura arrived within minutes, and as Sana entered the car, she sagged into the leather seats and retrieved her handbag from where she’d stowed it under her seat. The privacy screen was still up.

Sakura’s voice filtered through the divider. “Had a good night, ma’am?”

Sana chuckled tiredly. “You could say that.”

As the familiar sights and sounds of the city glided by, Sana stared out of the window, completely still for the first time in what felt like years. She could feel the adrenalin still thumping through her system, and the hammering of her heart against her ribcage had finally begun to slow.

_Did that… did that really just happen?_

_God, I think it did._

_What am I going to do?_

Sana arched her back, grimacing as her shoulder twinged, and bent down to pull her handbag out from under her seat. By the time Sakura came to a stop, Sana was back in her dress, tottering out into the air-conditioned lobby in her heels, and seemed - when she checked herself out in the mirror and adjusted her posture and expression a bit, at least - to have returned from a night of partying. The lift doors slid shut behind her.

_I refuse to feel sorry for any of those guys._

Still, she’d single-handedly taken down at least twenty men on the outskirts of the city, and more than a few of them had been pretty badly injured. She’d smashed clean through one guy’s jaw, and most of them probably had broken bones.

_Yeah, I did that._

When the doors slid open, there was a faint smile spreading across her face.

_And if taking pleasure in utterly wrecking their shit makes me a bad person, then, well… how many lawyers does Daddy have at his disposal again?_

_As long as they don’t catch me._

Sliding past her father’s study, Sana carefully avoided making eye contact with him and stalked down the hallway to her own bedroom. Just before she disappeared into her own suite, she could feel his eyes on her back.

The door slid shut behind her. Sana closed her eyes, exhaled gustily through her nose, and flung her handbag to the floor.

 _Time for a shower. I’m_ **_filthy_** _._


	3. jihyo gets traumatized

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @candypoppin on twitter

“Thank you for coming!”

The elderly couple smiled back at Jihyo as she held the door for them. The man - a short, slightly overweight fellow with a full head of grey hair - rummaged in his pocket and withdrew a few notes. “Thank you for helping us to order,” he rumbled, in response, and pressed the money into her hands. “You have a nice week, alright?”

Jihyo took their tip, slipped it into her pocket, and nodded emphatically. “Thanks! You too!”

As the door shut behind them, though, her smile slipped off her face. With a smooth, practiced motion, she flipped the sign on the door over from _OPEN_ to _CLOSED_ and made her way across the chipped tiles to grab a mop and bucket. It was almost midnight, and she was exhausted.

“Wow, they really liked you,” Jaebum called, voice echoing over the dilapidated walls. He was at the other end of the room, wiping down the counter, and Jihyo gave him the finger without looking up. “How much did they tip you?”

“Dunno.” _And I’m still not going to give you a cut, asshole._ She’d be done with her mopping soon, anyway. This was her least favourite part of the day, when everyone had left and it was just her and Jaebum. Jaebum was always more daring when there was no one else around, but, although he liked to talk big, he’d never tried anything.

“Sure,” Jaebum shot back, switching off the cash register slightly harder than was necessary, and leaned over the counter to glare at her. “You know, Mr Park might need to hire a new cashier soon.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I’ve been tapped by a friend of a friend.” Jaebum glanced around, making a show of being secretive (Jihyo rolled her eyes), and then beckoned her over. When she didn’t move, he made a small noise of annoyance and folded his arms. “Fine. I’m going to be working in, uh, insurance.”

“Insurance?” Jihyo’s skepticism must have shone through, because Jaebum did not resemble an insurance salesman in the least, not with his heavily-tattooed arms and his array of piercings. “You?” She shook her head, made a contemptuous noise with her mouth, and dragged the mop across the floor one more time.

“After a fashion.” Jaebum winked and disappeared into the kitchen. “I could show you the ropes after a month or two, you know,” he continued, that loud voice of his grating on her nerves. “I’m sure my employees would be more than happy to have a girl like you working for them.”

Oh.

_Oh._

If he was insinuating what Jihyo thought he was insinuating, then she wanted nothing to do with that. “I don’t think so,” she replied, then, dipping her head to stare at the tiles, anger twisting in the pit of her stomach, and slammed her mop back into her bucket for the last time. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to goad her, or if he was serious, but it didn’t matter. _He’s not worth it._ “Anyway, I’m done for the day. See you.”

Jaebum hadn’t noticed that Jihyo was fuming; he was still scrolling through his phone by the cash register, oblivious as always. “Are you sure you’ve finished mopping?”

“Yeah.” Jihyo kicked the bucket into the corner, shrugged off her stained apron, and strode quickly past Jaebum and into the back of the kitchen to grab her sling bag with one quick swipe. “You’ll be locking up, right? Great! See you!”

“Hey, hold on a minute, you little -”

But he was too late. Jihyo had already left, the door slamming shut behind her, and was, even now, sprinting through the desolate alleyways behind the restaurant, sneakers beating over the pavement as she went through the route home in her mind again. It wasn’t long before she was rocketing out into a brightly-lit thoroughfare, rows of street lights illuminating the rows of shops. She wriggled through the throngs of people, keeping her sling bag close (there were pickpockets about), and eventually stumbled into a dim alley, which would take her to her parents’ flat within a few minutes.

That was when she heard the cat.

_meow_

Jihyo paused, searching for the source of the noise, and settled on a small pile of black fur huddled in the corner. It was a sight for sore eyes; its fur seemed matted, and even its whiskers were drooping. She couldn’t make out any of its individual limbs; all she could see was its large, black eyes, staring up at her. _Damn my soft heart_. Carefully, she bent down, taking care not to let her pants come into contact with the floor, and crab-walked over to the cat. “Hey,” she whispered, stretching out one hand. “Hey. You lost?”

_meow_

“I’ll come back with food. You want food?”

_meow_

Jihyo reached out, then, daring to move her hand within striking distance of the cat’s wickedly-sharp claws. It really _was_ a very beautiful animal. How had it managed to stay clean, surrounded by so much rubbish? Most of the stray cats around her neighbourhood were ill-tempered and - more often than not - absolutely filthy, but not this. Why, its fur was so sleek and smooth that it almost seemed to glow.

The cat didn’t lash out, and so she patted its fur, as gently as she dared. It felt moist, though, for some reason, and as she pulled her hand back, there was a wet, sucking sound.

_Ew._

“ _Ew_ ,” Jihyo whispered, and then pulled back, rising to her feet, shaking her hand about frantically. The black, viscous substance that had attached to her hand flopped around, limply, but it did not fall off. “ _Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew -_ ” And when she tried to brush it off with her other hand, it only seemed to spread further. Now it was spreading up her arms, and as she glanced back down at the cat, it stared right back at her, its dark, dark eyes drinking in what little ambient light existed in the alley. _Aren’t cats’ eyes supposed to be colourful?_ It was padding towards her now, its paws stepping over the discarded newspapers lining the floor entirely soundlessly, and Jihyo backed away. The slick, slippery sensation of this weird, jelly-like substance was now spreading up her neck, and down, too, down past her collarbones, spreading over her back. _Are my clothes damaged? Oh, jeez, please don’t let them be damaged, I don’t want to have to buy new clothes -_

And then Jihyo stepped into the light, and it became clear to her that the situation had only gotten worse.

There was a thick, iridescent, oily strand of blackness, extending in an arc from her hand to the cat’s fur, and it was _pulsating_ . Something about it reminded her of a beating heart, or something organic. It was disgusting. _This is wrong. This is_ **_so_ ** _wrong._

Jihyo was psyching herself up to confront the cat (if that made sense) when, all of a sudden, as quickly as it had come on, that sensation of _wrongness_ , of _intrusion_ , of _moistness_ \- 

It was gone.

The thick, gooey rope connecting her hand and the cat vanished, popped like a soap bubble.

She took a few more steps backwards, eyes trained on the cat, and then pivoted on her heel and sprinted for home.

It was only when Jihyo was on her way up to her parents’ apartment, panting her way up her fifth flight of stairs, that the realization hit her, like a lightning bolt from a clear blue sky:

_The cat had turned white._

Her last memory of the cat - before she’d made a run for it - had been of a white feline, its fur as white as snow, when just previously, just a few minutes before, it had been as dark as the night sky itself. _What sort of cat turns from black to white?_

Jihyo shivered, turning her key in the lock, and resolved to take a long shower as the door creaked open and she kicked off her sneakers.

_Wait, no, I shouldn’t. Water’s precious, and Seoyoon and Jiyoung have probably already used up all our hot water._

She was right.

The water was absolutely freezing, and Jihyo gasped, squeezing her eyes shut, running her hands through her tangled hair, before cleaning herself up as fast as possible. They weren’t running out of soap, which was good, but - and here she stared in dismay at the miserable puddle of clear, sweet-smelling liquid in her hand - they _were_ running out of shampoo. That made sense; this brand of shampoo was expensive, and her mother made a point to use it at least twice a week, to treat herself. Jihyo, for her part, used it three times a week.

She emerged from the bathroom, still wiping her hair down with a ragged towel, to see that her parents had returned.

“아빠, 엄마.”

“How was your day?”

She could tell that both of them were tired. (They were always tired.) Her father was probably itching to take a bath, judging from how he was scratching at his stained collar, but this was a rare occasion, for it was possible for Jihyo and her parents to spend a whole week without seeing one another. Her parents worked long hours, and Jihyo would invariably still be asleep when they got home and when they left for work.

Carefully, she pulled her chair back, seated herself, and adjusted her posture, suppressing an unfamiliar twinge at the base of her spine. “Um, it was okay. They gave me fish for lunch, and Mr Kim cooked me some ramyun for dinner.”

“Good, good.” Her mother massaged her fingers, attempted to suppress a wince (arthritis), and opened the aluminium box which housed most of their savings. “I think we’ve got enough to increase our quota of hot water for this month.”

Her parents had never pressured Jihyo to give up her weekly takings, but they’d never had to. “I think Jiyoung needs new shoes, too,” she murmured, digging into her pockets and retrieving a wad of banknotes. “This should… this should cover it.”

It never felt good to give up her hard-earned money, but Jihyo knew it was necessary. In any case, her parents knew how she felt about it, and they didn’t force her to linger on for too long before allowing her to retreat to her bedroom for the night. As she stepped over the threshold and turned back to shut the door behind her, she saw her father’s retreating back, en route to the bathroom, and her mother, leaning back in her chair, eyes closed, hands folded over her stomach.

That would be her last image of her parents.

\-----

There was a new crack on her ceiling.

Jihyo stared at the crack, feeling the springs on her bed digging into her back, and willed herself to sleep, but sleep didn’t come. The crack was still there, and in the darkness of her room, the image of that viscous, gooey substance bubbled up without prompting, and she suddenly felt filthy, filthier than she’d ever been. _Jeez,_ she thought to herself, _that was disgusting. I’m glad I’m clean now_.

It took a physical effort to switch to thinking about something else, but she managed it, and her thoughts moved on to Seoyeon. How was she doing? The government-funded childcare centre that she went to had been having some funding issues, and her mother had mentioned as much some time back. They’d have to find an alternative solution for that. Perhaps Mrs Kim from next door might be willing to help out -

_BANG BANG BANG_

Jihyo sat up, all senses on high alert, and became aware of something else, in the back of her mind, unfurling, all spines and teeth and ferocity. _Where’d that come from?_ She blinked into the darkness, eyes skipping over Jiyoung’s textbooks, Seoyeon’s dolls, the wooden drawer in which they kept their uniforms -

_Why can I see in colour?_

Her eyes had never been good, but this was just ridiculous.

“- I’m going to ask you one more time.”

That noise… it was coming from the living room. Quietly, Jihyo rose to her feet, slipped on her socks and padded to the door, pressing her ear to the wood.

“Don’t lie to us. This is your last chance. Where is it?”

“Look, we don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re sorry, we really are, but -”

Her father’s voice hitched. Jihyo could pinpoint it, the moment where his breath caught, and she could also hear the sound of metal against metal.

(She didn’t know it yet, but that sound would stick with her for the rest of her life.)

On instinct, she turned the knob, driven by a sense of deep foreboding -

“Wrong answer.”

\- and emerged from her room just in time to see a man dressed in body armour shoot her mother, and then her father, in the head.

A few things happened over the course of the next few seconds.

Firstly, another man, also dressed from head to toe in body armour, glanced down at the complicated-looking device in his hands and pointed at the trembling girl in the doorway. “That’s her,” he declared, voice muffled by his helmet. “She’s got the entity.”

Secondly, the following thoughts ran through Jihyo’s head in quick succession.

_They killed my parents._

_They’re going to kill Jiyoung and Seoyeon._

_Bu_ ** _T_ ** _n_ ** _O_** _t_ **_iF_ ** _I_ **_KILL THEM FIRST._ **

She raised her arm in a barely-conscious movement, as if to shield her eyes from the image of her parents slumping to the floor, eyes empty, mouths half-open, and became gradually aware of a terrible agony entrenching itself throughout her body, white-hot ropes of pain digging across every square inch of skin, embedding themselves in her muscles, her gut, her bones. Her arm - if that was indeed her arm - snapped out, bulging grotesquely as a flurry of oily tendrils erupted from every pore, cutting through Kevlar, alumina and flesh with contemptuous ease. The man who had just killed her parents ( **_KILLED HER PARENTS_ ** ) collapsed to the floor like a puppet which had had its strings cut, and Jihyo ( **_NOT JIHYO_ ** ) transferred her burning gaze to the other men who had invaded her home and **_KILLED HER PARENTS_ **

**_BLOOD FOR BLOOD_ ** , Jihyo thought, woozy with the pain, and realized that the phrase that had just roared through her brain was not her own. It had been put there by something else, something infinitely more furious and bloodthirsty and _alien_.

Her body wasn’t responding to her, now, and Jihyo watched with a sort of dazed horror as her other arm, now considerably thicker and completely coated in the same foul, oily substance, wrapped around the neck of another man, also in body armour. She watched its muscles flex, hoisting the man up to her face until she was face-to-face with him. His goggles were made of an opaque material, and as she stared into them, his head rocketed forward, suddenly, and Jihyo felt her jaws ( **_NOT YOUR JAWS_ **) close around something thick, warm and wet.

Another thought rocketed through her brain, unfamiliar, greasy and _wrong_ , and Jihyo (the part of herself that was still Jihyo, at least) shuddered.

**_NOT YOUR JAWS_ **

**_MINE_ **

_My body_ , Jihyo thought, still disoriented, unsure how to feel as the thing piloting her body plunged one clawed hand into someone’s chest, _my body! Mine! Give it back!_

**_NO_ **

**_MINE NOW_ **

_Give it back!_

**_THEY KILLED YOUR PARENTS_ ** , the thing piloting her body retorted, communicating less in words than in concepts, and an image of her parents as they were - slumped across the couch, boneless and limp - flashed through her mind. Jihyo felt a sudden upsurge of nausea, but could not vomit. She was trapped in her body, and not even her throat would respond. **_YOU WILL DIE_ **

She had nothing to say to that, and as she struggled to process what had just happened, the thing piloting her body lifted a man over its head and _pulled_. It dropped both halves of the corpse to the ground, claws flexing, jaws unhinging, and advanced on the last man, who had almost made it to the door. Through its eyes, Jihyo saw him point a gun at her, fingers dancing over the complex-looking trigger mechanism, and -

**_PAIN_ **

Jihyo felt her right arm return to her conscious control, and she seized the chance to flail around, searching for something to hold on to. Explosions went off behind her eyes as the thing pulled back in a full-body flinch. Through half-closed eyelids, she watched the man stumble backwards and disappear around the corner -

And then she was bent double, on her hands and knees, a terrible stench filling her nose, eyes swimming. Her body had returned to her, and her parents were dead, they were dead, they were dead _dead DEAD_ -

Jihyo vomited.

\-----

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been unconscious, but it clearly hadn’t been very long.

_Okay._

Jihyo got back on her hands and knees, back aching, stomach pitching like she was seasick, and - slowly, excruciatingly slowly - got to her feet.

Her parents were -

_We can deal with that later._

There were four men.

(One of them was missing his head, another had been messily torn in half, and a third had a hole in his chest.)

All four of them were dead. She’d killed them.

 _Serves them right_ , Jihyo thought, viciously, and felt bile rise up in her throat. Was she going to vomit again? She’d already made such a terrible mess.

_What do I do?_

What could she do?

_Jiyoung. Seoyeon._

Jihyo stared at their bedroom door, half-expecting the doorknob to turn and Jiyoung’s pale, round face to appear.

_I need to take care of them -_

_No. I can’t._

Jihyo looked down, eyes slipping and sliding over the messy sprawl of bodies, and vomited again.

Once she’d regained control over herself, she placed one hand over her mouth and another on the dinner table, to steady herself, and reconsidered her options as soberly as she could.

_I can’t take care of them. I can’t._

_Not when there’s this thing in here with me -_

**_I WAS CALLED_ **

Jihyo almost shrieked. As it was, her mouth only managed a brief squeak before she bit down, hard, on her lip.

 _You took over me_ , she thought, accusatorily, as the taste of blood filled her mouth.

**_ASSISTANCE WAS REQUIRED_ **

_I didn’t agree to it!_

**_YOU WISHED TO KILL_ **

**_YOU COULD NOT KILL_ **

**_I COULD KILL_ **

**_I KILLED_ **

There was a sick, smug sensation of satisfaction trickling down the back of her spine, and Jihyo shook her head, sending her hair flying in every direction, cold sweat dripping from her temples. _That’s not what I meant!_

Even as the thought flashed through her mind, another, harsher conviction was already sinking in, this one articulated with bone-deep certainty.

 _You can’t control it. You might kill them, Jiyoung and Seoyeon. All it would take would be one swipe_ -

\- Jihyo thought of that massive, oily paw tearing through the man’s chest as though it were wet cardboard -

\- _and that’d be it._

“Need to get out,” she whispered, and the sound of her own voice - hoarse though it sounded - helped to steady her, to ground her, to equip her with the resolve she needed to go through with this.

_They can’t see this._

She had to clean this up -

There was a scream, and Jihyo spun around, chest heaving, and met Mrs Kim’s eyes.

Mrs Kim, her neighbour from next door.

Mrs Kim, who was standing in the doorway, clad in a loose-fitting smock, one hand over her mouth.

That was the last straw. Jihyo bolted, dipping her head down, and hit Mrs Kim with a glancing blow to the hip that sent her falling to the floor. She could hear her cries behind her, but did not turn around, running for the stairs and taking the steps three, four, five at a time. She could hear sirens.

 _They’re coming for me_ , Jihyo thought.

_No. They’re coming for Jiyoung and Seoyeon. They’ll be taken care of._

She swiped at her eyes.

_I have to turn back._

_No, it’s too late._

She was running away from her apartment block, from her home, clad in nothing more than a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, her vision blurring with tears, and still Jihyo ran. Thoughts blurred through her mind, memories and emotions coming hard, thick and fast, and still Jihyo ran. Disoriented, grieving and aware that she’d done something that could not be undone, she sprinted through the streets, running faster than she’d ever gone before, the buildings blurring by until they were just a smudge of grey and beige -

When she came back to herself, she was on the edge of the forest.

She’d gone further than she’d ever been before. In all her life, Jihyo had never left the city, never even sighted the outskirts. Panting, she bent double, bracing her hands against her knees, staring at her soiled socks, and made as if to turn back.

_No._

_I need to… I need to…_

Her eyes fluttered. Jihyo took a deep breath and sat down heavily on the ground, her shorts moist with dew and dirt. Her heart was throbbing painfully, rattling her ribcage, and her face was wet. It had been wet for a while.

 **_SLEEP_** , the thing that was piloting her body said, unfurling itself from where it had been hiding, and Jihyo was so startled by its sudden intrusion into her muddled thoughts that she let go of the thin thread binding her to consciousness and fell, screaming, into the darkness of slumber.

 **_SLEEP_** , the thing said, again, as though rolling the word around in its non-existent mouth, and entered the woods, feet padding soundlessly over the forest floor.


	4. forty thousand years of human evolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @candypoppin on twitter

Sana woke up.

It was a strange sensation, this seamless transition from dreamless sleep to wakefulness and semi-alertness, but it was one that she was familiar with. This was her life now.

She turned her head to the left and slid out from under the blankets, sighing as her feet touched the carpet, and stretched luxuriously. Sunlight spilled through the windows, warming her skin, and Sana held that position for a few seconds before darting across the floor and disappearing into her walk-in closet.

Yeonjung (that _was_ her name, right?) was still sleeping. This was pretty typical of most of Sana’s one-night stands; one of the things that Sana had discovered in the weeks and months since her violent encounter on the outskirts of the city had been that she didn’t need as much sleep as she’d used to. She could drink more, too, and her hangovers were much more bearable. All this meant that she invariably woke up earlier.

It also meant that she’d have to face her father’s displeasure.

Sana briefly considered hanging about in her room, waiting for Yeonjung to wake up, before bundling her out and accompanying her to the lift, but she’d learnt from experience that it was better to just let her father shout at her first. That way, when Yeonjung left, he wouldn’t have the heart to yell at her. Sana didn’t like it when her father shouted at her friends.

_Oh, stop worrying about it and go out there, you coward._

Sana shoved her hands into the pockets of her kimono-inspired, Italian-made dressing gown, squared her shoulders, and opened her bedroom door to face the music.

Her father was in his office, typing at his desktop; he was muttering to himself. Sana peeked around the doorframe, decided not to disturb him, and opted to head into the kitchen to get herself a snack… which, of course, was when he called out, from behind the monitor. “Sana! Come in here, please.”

 _Please?_ Wow, he was in a good mood today. Sana’s ears had picked up a tremor to his voice. Was he angry? She was receiving some really mixed signals. This did not bode well. Carefully, she slunk in through the door and took exaggerated care to arrange herself in the chair opposite him. When her father emerged from behind his desktop, she couldn’t help but pause, taken aback by the look on his face.

Her father was _smiling_.

“Had a good night?” the man opposite her asked. Sana refused to believe that this was her father; she couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled at her. Wordlessly, guardedly, she nodded.

“That’s good.” The man opposite her interlaced his fingers, untangled them, and interlaced them again. There was a brief pause. Then, he took a deep breath. “Sana, it has come to my attention that our relationship has… not been the best.”

Sana snorted.

_Yeah, that’s an understatement._

At that, her father laughed, lightly, dealing another little shock to her mental model of him. “It’s funny, isn’t it?” He shook his head ruefully. “Well, that’s in the past. From now on, I’d like to make amends, starting here. Sana, there’s nothing wrong with you bringing girls home. I’m not going to encourage you to do it, but… well… I’m not going to shout at you for doing it, either, and I’ll treat them with the courtesy that befits a visitor or a guest.”

It was difficult to believe this - this apparition, this doppelgänger who had taken her father’s place. Sana had spent too long at bitter odds with him to trust such a sudden, abrupt turn, although a part of her - a tiny, tiny part that had been buried underneath layers of adolescent anger and hurt - thrilled to hear it. Entirely against her will, there was a small but perceptible warmth in her chest.

“Sure,” she said, dubiously. “Sure.”

“You may be wondering what sparked this sudden change,” her father continued, as though reading her mind, “and I’ll tell you. Last night, I made a breakthrough. Sana, can you believe that it’s been forty thousand years of evolution? We've barely even tapped the vastness of human potential.”

“Sure,” Sana repeated.

_Is he high?_

A shrug. “Well, I won’t keep you - I’ve got a lot to do today, after all.” He rose to his feet, then, rounding the desk, and Sana watched as he did. There was a spring to her father’s step, a spring that had been missing for a long time. Or maybe it had never been there before. “I’ll see you later,” he called, shrugging on his coat and disappearing around the doorframe, leaving Sana still sitting in her chair, staring at the empty doorway, shell-shocked and confused.

The idea popped into her head, then, as she was spinning around, idly, still trying to wrap her head around the situation.

_What if he’s dating someone?_

That would be nice, Sana supposed. Then again, her father had tried - time and time again - to get to know other ladies. It had never worked. In Sana’s opinion, he was just too much of an asshole.

_Who knows? Maybe he’s met a literal angel who’s willing to tolerate all his bullshit._

“Yeah, like that’d happen,” Sana muttered, and rose to her feet to wake Yeonjung up.

\-----

When Jihyo regained consciousness, she was in the forest.

Well, that wasn’t quite right. Jihyo hadn’t regained consciousness, not exactly. When she’d awoken from her slumber, she’d done so in the middle of a void, a plane, a dimension entirely devoid of… well… anything. It was difficult to describe; all this was happening inside her head, in her mind.

The blackness was all-encompassing, pressing in from all directions, but Jihyo had persisted. She’d dragged herself back to consciousness, inch by excruciating inch, against what felt like an ocean of resistance, until the darkness retreated completely and she became aware of a whole avalanche of tiny pinpricks of pain, all over her body, impossible to pinpoint directly. Her feet were bleeding, which wasn’t surprising, but there weren’t any scratches on the rest of her body, or on her face. Her muscles were aching, though, and so were her bones, and -

Jihyo bent double and vomited.

 **_WASTEFUL_** , the thing chided, emerging as though from nowhere to pronounce its verdict, and Jihyo shrieked. The sound was swallowed up by the forest, though, with nothing to show for it but a pair of birds taking to the sky. She saw, now, that she was in a clearing, with moss underneath her injured feet, and nothing but foliage above her, as far as the eye could see.

She was lost.

 _How is that wasteful?_ she demanded, deciding to spare her vocal chords the stress. _And… what are you, anyway?_

 **_BIOMASS IS NECESSARY FOR FUEL_** , came the reply. **_I COME FROM KLYNTAR_ **

Jihyo shook her head, willing away the dizziness, and set off in an arbitrary direction. She needed to get out of the forest, and back to civilization. Her socks were good, and still usable, if barely, but the fact remained that she was padding over branches and a bunch of other sharp objects with nothing more than a thin layer of fabric as protection.

 **_YOU SHOULD RETURN YOUR BODY TO ME_** , said the thing. **_I WILL FEED ON OUR BEHALF AND YOU WILL BE PROTECTED FROM HARM_ **

_How long was I out?_ Jihyo squinted up, through the leaves shielding the sun, and grimaced. It was like her head was full of cotton; she was in the forest, that much was true, and she was running from something. What, though, was she running from? She couldn’t remember, and it hurt to think too much about it. She had two sisters, though. She remembered that much.

**_SIXTY-THREE DAYS_ **

_SIXTY-THREE DAYS?_ Jihyo’s eyes widened. She’d lost a lot of time; at this rate, Jiyoung and Seyoung…

Her sisters were called Jiyoung and Seyoung. Right. How had she forgotten? She smacked her head lightly and kept trudging on. She needed to get out of the forest.

**_THE FOREST IS SAFE_ **

_I have to get to my sisters_ , Jihyo thought back, utterly immovable on that point, and the darkness subsided.

On they went, then, for another few hours, until Jihyo’s throat grew parched and the aches in her muscles slowed her to little more than a pathetic crawl.

Darkness closed in on her vision, but through sheer willpower, Jihyo held it back. _No_ , she thought, with a clarity born entirely of bloody-mindedness. _No. We will go to a city, is that understood? We’ll go to a city, whether or not I’m in control of my own body, or I’ll keep fighting you. Is that understood? I’ll keep fighting you, and you won’t be able to use my body as you please! Is that understood -_

\-----

The symbiote thought.

While it had kept its host under sedation for as long as it could, harvesting and replicating as much information as was possible, it had awoken eventually, and much energy had been expended in order to retain control over the host’s body. Eventually, however, the host had been victorious, and the symbiote had been defeated.

This was discomfiting.

In order to maximize mental stability, the symbiote had repressed all trauma sustained by the host (including the termination of its progenitors). Had this been a mistake?

The symbiote did not make mistakes.

An agreement would have to be reached.

\-----

Jihyo woke up.

She was in the forest.

This time, the disorientation lasted only for a few moments before the memories came flooding back, though not all of them returned. She could remember her sisters, that much was true, but what was she running from? It was connected. She had parents, she _knew_ she had parents, but what -

**_A COMPROMISE_ **

_I told you I’d keep fighting you_ , Jihyo thought, a bit smugly, and savoured the faint thrum of irritation that resonated through her skull.

**_I WILL RETURN YOU CONTROL WHEN NECESSARY AND WE WILL GO TO A CITY_ **

**_IN EXCHANGE YOU WILL CEASE STRUGGLING_ **

_No. The next time I wake up, I want to be in a city, or at least on the outskirts thereof._ It did her no good to languish amid the trees, with nothing but a glob of slime for company. She had to find someone who was powerful enough to help her find her sisters. One of those agencies that took care of orphaned children, or…

Orphaned children?

Jihyo’s head hurt.

 **_FINE_** , came the disgruntled reply. **_CONTROL WILL BE RETURNED ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF A CITY_ **

_And I don’t want it to be returned in one or two months either!_ Jihyo riffled through her memories, seizing on the last date she could remember with any clarity.

(She’d been at a restaurant, hadn’t she? She’d been mopping the floor, and she’d met a cat. It had been two months since then… hadn’t it?)

_By May, I want to be on the outskirts of a city! I know how fast I walk, and I know how fast you move._

(She remembered running, and she remembered coming to a stop on the edge of the forest. She must have dashed a great distance in a short period of time.) 

**_YOU WERE UNCONSCIOUS FOR ANOTHER EXTENDED PERIOD OF TIME_ **

_I. Don’t. Care._ Her mental voice sounded as steely as Jihyo felt. _You don’t like me fighting you for control of my body? Tough. It’s_ **_my_ ** _body. If you don’t like it, you can go away. I want to be within spitting distance of a city as soon as possible._

There was nothing but a sullen silence for the rest of the walk. Jihyo walked until she could no longer, repeating her demands in her head, repeating them in a constant mantra.

And then the blackness flooded in and smothered her.


End file.
